The Ashes Glow
by Tsume Yuki
Summary: It's when he's trying, and failing to sleep, the whimpering cries of the wounded around him, the she first appears. And in this state of weakness, Thorin isn't even surprised that he ends up captivated. Eventual FemHarryxThroin


**The Ashes Glow**

_**Emeralds**_

_x_

The scent of burning stone still clings to his tunic, not that he believes it'll ever leave him.

Staring up at the night's sky above him, Prince Thorin, Son of Thráin, son of Thrór, tried to block out the sounds all around him.

They had found shelter, questionable shelter, but shelter none the less. Some of the palace guards that are still lucid had taken to standing guard over his people, and Thorin can only feel rage bubbling beneath his skin at the thought that they even needed to.

He knew that some of the healers had been forced to drug his grandfather, with his father's permission, in order to stop the older dwarf from making an attempt on the mountain right away.

He knew Dis was curled up beside their Mother, her burnt leg no doubt covered in salve but even then it would still scar.

He knew Frerin was resting beside alongside their younger sister, and all Thorin could do was grit his teeth over the fact his younger siblings, his mother, was sleeping rough.

He'd looked to the elves, had felt the desperation running through his veins, and then watched as the king had just shook his head and turned away from them.

They were homeless, with nothing more than the clothes on their backs and the whatever they'd had the time or foresight to grab a hold of. Thorin himself was only armed with the sword he'd been wearing for the ceremony, a ceremony he couldn't remember anything of but fire and brimstone, of screams and the dark roar of the dragon.

Clenching his fingers into the palm of his hands, the young dwarf prince gave up trying to sleep, there was no point lying here and doing nothing, waiting for something that would never come he could at least be productive. His father slept, so perhaps his presence would reassure the others whom could not sleep like himself. If there were any that, like him, were unable to give in to the exhaustion they felt.

.

Sitting up, Thorin ran a hand through his hair, teeth releasing the flesh of his cheek that he'd been worrying at. If one were to discount the whimpering cries of those in the throes of nightmare, then the camp around him was silent, filled with shivering, homeless Darrows. He knew the dwarves had suffered throughout history, but he'd foolishly thought that it was all behind them.

Evidently not.

Getting to his feet, Thorin gave one last look to his mother and siblings, already knowing that his father and grandfather would be settled on the outskirts of their camp, ready to defend the women and children that'd been placed near the centre should they be attacked. Even though he himself had been declared battle-ready a year past, his father had insisted he remain with his siblings as a last line of defence.

And for Thorin, they were the thing he needed to protect most.

Letting his eyes scan the crowds, he paused on the figure that was knelt beside one of the children in their gathering, a low light coming from their hands. That did not look natural. The figure was too slight, this was no dwarf.

Drawing his sword silently, Thorin began to make he was over, determined not to wake any others. Who knew what this figure would do if startled; he'd be having words with the guards that'd allowed it to slip past.

He neared, drawing his sword back to swing at the intruder who'd dared to try their luck on the dwarves down on their luck.

He wasn't expecting the figure to turn to look at him.

.

She was female, that much was evident in the shape of her face, the sharp rise of her cheekbones and her big eyes, framed with thick black lashes as they were. The long dark hair was piled up on the top of her head in a loose bun, a hairstyle that, had they been back in Erebor, would have marked her as little more than a peasant but now meant nothing.

It was the eyes though, that caught his attention.

They were the brightest green he'd ever seen. However lovely the shade was though, it was unnatural, the way they gleamed in the light.

"What are you!" Thorin hissed beneath his breath, watching as the girl held one hand up to show she meant no harm, while the other reached for the collar of her shirt. Her clothing was as simple as her hairstyle, a long sleeved cotton shirt and dark trousers, her small feet bare.

It was when she exposed the expanse of her collar bone though that Thorin felt his knees weaken slightly and relief flood through him.

The mark of the maker rested upon her skin.

It was light, almost like a birthmark against the pale skin it sat upon. But it was still the mark of their maker, a maker who was apparently still looking out for them. His faith had been wavering, they'd been attacked by a dragon and no help had come. Not until now.

"Are you going to rid us of the dragon?"

The female shook her head, face crumpling with shame at her answer. "I can't, I'm only here for the night on lend." On lend?

Thorin slowly sheathed his sword, watching as the girl with the soft voice turned back to the child she'd been crouched over, and once again began to heal the burns the covered the dwarfling's skin.

"On lend?" Thorin whispered, watching mesmerized as one of the children that the healers had been sure wouldn't make it through the night took on the parlour of a healthier youngster. He didn't doubt for a moment the child would live, that he would be as health as he had been twenty four hours ago. In a time before a dragon attacked.

"I'm not from your god, Aulë is it? I work with a different being, a higher one than that. But your maker came to my... I shall call him my partner for now, even if that is not quite right. I'm more his agent who he sends to get the job done to be honest. But regardless, your maker came to my partner, asking for any assistance that could be spared for his race. I will only be here for the night on his words, but all shall be well by the time I leave." The female smiled, twisting a loose lock of dark black hair behind her ear to rest there, the child beneath her completely healed.

"We are forever in your debt. Thorin, son of Thráin, son of Thrór, at your service my Lady."

The female blinked back at him, tilting her head to a side before slowly dipping it forwards in his direction.

"I go by Harry, I'll not bore you with the titles."

.

He followed her around the entire make-shift camp, watching her heal every dwarf she comes into contact with, creating thick blankets for those without, restoring broken and burnt children's toys to their former state. The guards don't notice them as they make their way through the camp, and Thorin could see why now.

The female with the strange name, Harry, is a being of pure magic that their maker sought out for them. Even if Aulë could not help them, he had found someone who could, which was more than anyone else had done for them so far.

Every so often, they would come across a dwarf suffering from night terrors, and Harry would pull a small vile from her pocket, coaxing the liquid down their throat until the dwarf slept soundly. Thorin watches it all happen in some detached form of amazement, one miracle after another preformed right before his eyes. He didn't think that any of the wizards that roamed their earth was capable of what he was seeing, the effortless healing of so many.

Harry moved with a grace between his people, setting each bone, restoring skin that'd been burnt beyond healing, even returning the eye one of their guards had lost in battle. Thorin could only stare in amazement at the sight of the dwarf now with both eyes until he finally tore his gaze away to look at Harry.

She was now kneeling beside his sister, the light glow of her hands covering Dis' leg as the brunt skin slowly disappeared, the mark gone as if it had never been there. Placing her hands together and then slowly drawing them apart, Harry carefully took the little soft pony doll that'd appeared between her palms and tucked it under Dis' arm, planting a small kiss on his youngest siblings head before she stood.

"Come over here, don't think I've missed the fact your wrist is sprained."

He'd not wanted to mention it, she was already doing so much for his people that he dared not ask for more. But the female with the emerald eyes took his wrist between her cold fingers, running them across the point where his forearm met his hand.

Harry's fingers were thin, he noted, and they moved across his wrist gently, dusted across the scattering of arm hair that covered his skin. Every point she touched tingled, a soothing warmth sinking into his joints and curling around his injury before he could feel it no more.

Green eyes, eyes he couldn't even begin to describe the colour of, looked up at him and the girl smiled. If he were to guess, he'd have placed her as a short female from the race of men, for they were at eye level and he was one of the tallest dwarves he knew of.

Slowly, Harry had stood on her tiptoes, planting a kiss upon his forehead as she had done Dis.

"How old are you?" She asked, voice quiet as she settled back onto her heels.

"Twenty four."

Harry hummed, nervously looking off to a side before she spoke again, voice hushed. "I was seventeen when I started working with the being your maker dealt with. I've only had the job for six years so far."

She was a year younger than him.

"You need to be strong for your race Thorin, but know that if you need help, it is but a call away."

Staring at the girl who looked back at him with a smile, Thorin could only watch as she offered a little wave of farewell and then disappeared from sight.

.

When all the dwarves around him woke in morning, none could believe what had happened. The guard who'd gotten his eye back seemed to be in a state of shock.

Thorin had reported to his father, who'd stared at him, inspecting Dis' leg with a look of wonderment upon his face at the smooth skin. All of their people had blankets now, where before there had not even been enough for the women and children, let along for the males to have one each.

"And she asked for nothing?"

Thorin shook his head in reply to the question, silently considering the female with emeralds for eyes.

She had been even younger than him, and she had been the one that their maker had sent. If she could perform such miracles at her age, then he could led his people alongside his father and grandfather.

They may have lost Erebor, all but one may have turned their backs upon them, but he would fight on.

Because while they may be down, they were not dead.

Not yet.

.

From that night, the sacking of Erebor, the night they were blessed by Mahal's angel, stories of the green eyed female continued to pop up amongst his people.

Regrowing limbs, jewellery that'd been stolen suddenly returning, his brother, a shield springing up between him and what would have surely been the last blow Frerin had ever been dealt. She'd save his brother from death, of that, Thorin was certain.

But he never personally met her again, not for well over one hundred years. Not until he made his attempt to take Erebor back.

On what a Hobbit would one day call, an unexpected journey.

* * *

><p><strong>I needed to take a break from 'This Dream's On Me' until I get the rest of Part 3 planned out, and I wanted to write some Thorin, so here we go. <strong>

**As to how Harry keeps popping up? Well, since she collected the ****Deathly****Hallows she became something like Death's Avatar. Basically if another idiot ****like ****Voldemort tired to cheat Death, Death can dispatch Harry to go deal with what he can't. But for now, Harry has asked if she can live out a life on Middle Earth and Death has given her a dwarven lifespan, even if she is not, because Aule came to them for help. So she's been silently watching over the dwarven race, but never really showing her face. **

**So, yeah, thoughts?**

**Tsume  
>xxx<strong>


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